Quicksand
by disenchanted13
Summary: Truth is, she doesn't want to say it out loud. For thousands of obvious reasons. But just one remains in the recesses of her mind. Because once she says it out loud, it becomes undeniably real. He needed to know. That he's not the only one who's slowly losing their mind over this. Somehow, he feels like that the answer to that question was something that he wasn't ready to hear.


She looks at him and her heart _stops. _Like it has jumped into her throat and she can't swallow.

She doesn't even want to think about it, but how could she actually help it? It was the only thought that was running through her mind, like a train that was off the rails, she was utterly hopeless.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" The redheaded girl asked, her eyes filled with concern.

She finally finds the courage to swallow the lump in her throat and mumble out an affirmative.

Ginny just nods and smiles apologetically at her, and she felt herself cringing on the inside.

* * *

They say that when the truth comes, it hits you like a wrecking ball. They weren't kidding at all when they said that. At least that's what he's feeling right now.

As he looked across the Hall, something that happened so often these past few days that he actually thought that he was slowly losing it, he had to stop.

Yes, this was beginning to become such an ordinary occurrence; but lately, or as of this hour, if one wanted to be precise, something was different.

Her eyes connect with his for a split-second and everything he's ever known flies out the window. She turns her head to talk to the redhead, but all he notices is how her hair was particularly shiny today, no longer the same mass of curls it was back in their first year. Or how, for that split-second, her eyes weren't the brown he imagined them to be, but a honey color.

He shakes his head. No. He feels that sting of affection in the back of his throat and he almost wants to vomit at the foreign feeling, why wasn't his body rejecting this emotion?

He looks at her again, maybe trying to convince himself that she still looks plain, boring, or anything that would quash the foreign feeling swelling within him, but he can't. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't try. It doesn't mean that he succeeds.

_Because, just maybe, he wanted to feel it too._

* * *

There it is again. That familiar feeling that sets itself into the pit of her stomach whenever she manages to steal a glance or two his way, and she really can't help it. And she hates it. She hates not being in control, not being able to have a say in the situation, not even being able to stop herself from looking at him. How pathetic was that? She honestly didn't even want to answer the question for fear that she might say something that she can't take back.

She catches him looking at her and the sneer that mostly took up residence on his face wasn't there. A simple, unnoticeable to a stranger's eye, quirk of his head and she wonders if he feels it too. If he feels that uncontrollable urge to always know where the other one is. The urge to know if the other knows they existed. Did he actually know that his eyes were more of silver than grey?

That's it. She's definitely lost it.

But then again, they were silver once you really thought about it.

And she was safe in her mind, wasn't she?

_Wasn't she?_

* * *

Everything was going too slow. Frustratingly so. So slow that he felt like he was going to explode at any given moment.

Surely, she feels it too? That he's not the only one who's slowly losing their mind over this. Somehow, he feels like that the answer to that question was something that he wasn't ready to hear yet.

And as he looks at the girl in front of him, he can't help but see _her _face, _her _hair, _her _lips, and he feels like he's failing her somewhat. Like she's holding up her end of the bargain, and he isn't.

He wonders if the fact that he sees _her _everywhere makes an actual difference.

If she actually would ever feel the same way.

_Or he was just slowly losing himself in a delusion._

* * *

"What exactly is bothering you, Hermione? You've been out of it for quite a few days now. At first, I didn't really say anything but I can't take it anymore."

She turns her head towards the voice and she can't help but shrug. Of course she knew exactly what was bothering her. The question was that if she was completely sure of herself to divulge the answer.

"Exams. That's it, Gin. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the library. Snape's got a foot-long essay on boomslang skin due next week."

And as she picked up her books and walked herself out the door, she felt Ginny's accusing eyes on her, feel the lie that she managed to spout out seep into her skin and her consciousness, poisoning her from the inside.

Truth is, she doesn't want to say it out loud. For thousands of obvious reasons. But just one remains in the recesses of her mind.

Because once she says it out loud, it becomes undeniably _real._

* * *

"I, for one, am shocked to see you here." His voice drawls over to where she's sitting, the sarcasm not unwelcome, but not unfamiliar either.

"Very funny, Malfoy." She manages to reply; the scratching of her quill against the parchment and her hammering heartbeat was enough to quell the silence between them.

"Draco."

She stops, her quill in midair over the inkbottle, and she slowly turns her eyes to his. He clears his throat, as if sensing the moment was becoming unbearably awkward.

"I beg your pardon?" She tries to act nonchalant, but the lump in her throat is hard to ignore.

"I have a name, Granger. It's Draco." He says it again in that familiar drawl that makes goosebumps appear on her skin and her mind to race a mile a minute.

"Uh yes, of course, you do...Draco it is then." It feels weird rolling off her tongue, but again, like his lazy drawl, completely not unwelcome. Along with that shiver that managed to make its way down her spine.

He feels like his heart just jumped into his throat, but he manages to maintain a cool exterior. After all, nobody can know that he's slowly crumbling on the inside. Especially not her. Especially not when he's not ready to say it out loud yet.

She stares at him, trying to decipher feelings that have managed to break the surface, and she just shakes her head and goes back to writing her essay, her cursive slowly losing its normal legibility.

"Hermione." She stops, almost spilling ink everywhere, and she felt like she just got hit with a _Stupefy. _

"I figured that I should return the favor. After all, it took you a while to say mine." He shrugs, and a piece of his hair falls into his eyes, where she felt the urge to slowly run her hands through it. The look on his face made her want to laugh, it was so unlike him yet a part of her felt that this was something that he managed to keep secret so well.

She nods her approval and she can't help but smile.

Maybe it's something?

Maybe it was the beginning? Or the end? Maybe even getting to admit something that they both knew? An illusion of depravity?

_And as they both stood there, no one was the wiser._


End file.
